Jonah

(Context: Jonah 1:2)

The call came to me in the night, in an instant, a compulsion echoing from inside, waking me up with the knowledge that I must go to Nineveh. I have never been there, have never been to a city larger than my tiny town, never been more than a day’s journey from the house where I was born, even on a pilgrimage to the temple in Jerusalem where I have meant to go so many times.

Abraham

(Context: Genesis 22:13)

My son is alive. This ram is dead, but my son is alive. I cry and laugh (as promised at the naming of my son) with joy stained by bright terror at the knowledge of what I cannot understand, of the immensity of this god that I have found.

Sihon

(Context: Deuteronomy 2:30)

Ours is the city of intelligence. Those whom we protect call us giants, claim we hold the ancient knowledge from before the flood.

Here we sit, behind our machines: arms crossed, feet planted, eyes forward, absorbing the world that we detect. The figures show the threats, the possibilities; our perfect information tells us what we must do to protect our homeland, to secure our borders from invaders and from within.

Yet I cannot reconcile my knowledge and my heart.

Aaron

(Context: Leviticus 10:1)

“Strange fire”… and so my sons have died. And so I sit in silence, and so I mourn. I have always been the quiet one.

Moab

(Context: Genesis 19:36)

By day, my grandfather sits at his cave, watching men watch the sheep who graze above the ruins. By night, he sits in the field and drinks, as his head rests against the pillar of salt, as he wraps his arms around it and tries to dance.